kite surfing – derrickjknight

“One For The Ladies”

On this wet and windy morning James Peacock visited and completed the setting up of my new SureColor P600 printer. The process took an hour, and there is no way I could have done it myself. One reason should suffice for explanation. The reason the printer could not be found by the computer was that it had been blocked by the iMac’s security system. This was easy to fix, but you had to know that would be the case. James was his usual friendly, efficient, self. We made a test print of the canoodlers on the tower from yesterday. The colours were perfect.

After lunch I watched a recording of the World Cup rugby match between Australia and Georgia.

Later, we drove to Avon Beach in search of surfers. We were not disappointed.

Here is Jackie’s view of the choppy waves approaching the beach.

The car park was full of these water sports enthusiasts preparing to enter the fray or

packing up to leave.

This little stretch of the Solent rivalled the congestion of the final approach to summit of Everest as sailboarders, kite surfers, and fishing boats took to the waves.

Some found themselves in the water;

others engaged in gymnastics, either soaring into the air,

or skimming over the surface.

Sailboards, kites, and other equipment were deposited on the sand,

and carried to and fro along the beach

Sometimes I watched sailboarders in action

then carrying their steeds inland.

I watched a pair of sailboarders preparing to take to the sea. So did Jackie, but she only

focussed on one “for the ladies”.

She also photographed me.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; piquant cauliflower cheese; tender runner beans; and crunchy carrots, with which I finished the Malbec.

The Watchers On The Shore

Today’s weather was once more clear, bright, sunny, and cooler.

Bees continued collecting nectar throughout the garden. On my walk around I captured them on bidens, and on the more mature blooms of Festive Jewel.

Crisp young examples of the latter await their turn at contributing to the queen’s larder.

Tomatoes continue to ripen in readiness for ours.

It is a good thing I was not using film in my attempts to catch the myriad of fluttering snowflakes in the form of Small White butterflies while they swirled through the air. I settled for those landing on a poppy head and on a verbena bonarensis. Another took pity on me and perched on a petunia.

Orange crocosmia Emily Mckenzie brightens the Dead End Path and pink sweet peas dance in the Weeping Birch Bed.

Our Bishop of Llandaff in the New Bed was eaten by a vole a couple of years ago. Its deeper red companion has survived.

Another plant that has proved impossible to grow in the various beds tried by the Head Gardener is the gaura. This one is thriving in a pot.

Lady Emma Hamilton produces multiple flushes.

Rows of small begonias sparkle on the borders of beds like these alongside the Heligan Path.

Nugget darted in and out nearby. I am beginning to wonder whether he associates the click of the camera with the clink of a trowel.

One of the pictures above should provide a clue to today’s “Where’s Nugget?” (9)

Late this afternoon we took drive into the forest.

The only sign of life on Hatchet Pond was this pair of swans.

The others must have heard that members of an excited family were feeding the birds beside the nearby Beaulieu River.

Kite surfers and sailboarders struggled on the Solent at the end of Tanners Lane, where they were watched by a young man on the shore. I suppose I made it two watchers so I could legitimately borrow the title of Stan Barstow’s novel.

This evening we dined on Lidl’s rack of pork spare ribs in barbecue sauce; the Culinary Queen’s flavoursome mushroom rice; and the Head Gardener’s tender runner beans, with which Jackie drank Belgium’s Hoegaarden and I finished Tesco’s finest Chilean Malbec.

The Action Came To Me

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT AS REQUIRED.

Jackie and I left Hurst Castle yesterday as we entered, crossing the bridge over the moat. What was once a deep defensive dug-out water-filled trench, now just collects a little precipitation when it rains.

We joined the crowds waiting for the ferry.

The small fleet of pleasure boats plied their way between Keyhaven and the castle. Even as one hove into view there was little movement among the visitors. Each boat only catered for twelve people, so those who were able might as well lounge around on the grass

until this arrival

had decanted its load and taken on fresh supplies.

We gained a place on the next one and were soon back at Keyhaven.

On board the ferry Jackie had learned the story of the wrecked boat that I have featured in several previous posts. It is seen here with a severe list. The owner of the vessel has apparently died. Before his demise he had sold the mooring to someone at Mudeford. The purchaser has done nothing with it.

This afternoon we drove to Lepe to meet Elizabeth, Danni, and Andy. My sister is embarking on a documentary photographic series on ‘coast’ for her camera club. I had suggested Lepe.

On a wide junction with the Exbury Road outside Beaulieu, a young pony seemed confused. It stood in the centre, not knowing which way to turn, until Jackie stopped for it.

It had been agreed that we would make our ways to the car park and find each other. A friendly gull guided us to what seemed to be the only available space. Jackie waited in the car.

As I walked along the shingle there was much activity down by the shore at this low tide. Groups gathered in the shallows and yachts were much in evidence.

A louring sky did, however, send some off to the café.

Kite surfers were undeterred.

My extended family members, Andy, Danni, and Elizabeth, were to be found on the shingle at the far end of the car park.

I had decided that, in walking back to inform Jackie, I would amble down to the shore, where the action was. A gull’s presence against the cloud curtain suggested rain was not far away.

Indeed, it wasn’t, so, swathed in towels, the action came to me;

some pausing to inspect the shallows.

Along with the entire population of the beach, we entered the café, fought for chairs, and drank our choice of hot or cold liquids.

When the sun returned we walked down to the crumbling cliffs for Elizabeth to conduct her recce. There a couple of groups dug for lug worms to use as fishing bait,

while others walked along the exposed sand spit.

Kite surfers has continued undisturbed.

A skein of geese flapped silently by above the scene.

The darkening sky had shifted enough for a pair of passing yachts to catch the sunlight.

Soon it was time to pack up the surf kites

and carry them to the transport.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid sausage casserole, boiled potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bardalino.

‘I Wanna Tell You A Story’

Following yesterday’s discovery of my blocked debit card, I had further conversations with Barclays Bank in France this morning. I was directed to an exchange of e-mails I had had with their representative in November last year. The problem was caused by my having unknowingly slipped into overdraft, for the only time in five years, by a small sum. I was told that: ‘If your debit balance was not to be covered shortly, we would have to refuse payments made out of your account which could have significant legal implication’.
I was politely asked to let the bank know when I had taken the necessary action. I replied that I would do so that afternoon, which I did.
Today I was told that this was in effect telling me my card had been blocked and I should have telephoned to get it unblocked when I had done so. I have sent another e-mail today, making my feelings about this fairly clear.
This largely pleasant afternoon with crisp sunshine sparkling in the water on roads and fields reflecting the nightlong rain, Jackie drove us to Milford on Sea, where the area behind the sea wall was quite populated with dog and children walkers. Sheltered by Hurst Spit, we walked alongside Sturt Pond, coming back atop the spit. We stood over one of the bridges spanning the stream that links the pond and the lake, and watched a pair of swans furiously paddling to prevent themselves being swept under the bridge where they didn’t want to go.
Kite surfing was in progress, and heavy plant, already having regained the path along the pond, was engaged in redistributing shingle. The weather people took the moment of our return to send dark clouds and needle sharp rain to join the strong winds and spray from the choppy sea in sending us on our way. It was not difficult to see how the ocean could have beleaguered The Marine restaurant and smashed its windows on Valentine’s Night. As we arrived at the car the sun came out again.
I had spent the morning photographing and downloading the pages of a book. On February 2nd I wrote of the apple tree in the garden of Amity Grove. Becky did attempt to scan the treasure. She then brought it over to Castle Malwood Lodge to for me to try my scanner. Neither scanner had the capacity to deal with the large format. On this, my first day back from France, I decided to photograph the work and put the pictures into iPhoto. Not having the benefit of Ken Morse and his rostrum camera, my photographs are not perfectly flatly framed, but I have done my best to present them reasonably straightforwardly. The rostrum camera is a device that enables a photographer to photograph a surface from above without getting the distortion you will see in most of my efforts.

Here is the front cover.

Max Bygraves was a very popular 20th century entertainer. As a comedian his catchphrase was: ‘I wanna tell you a story’. Tomorrow I will open the book which will tell you a story.

This evening we dined on baked smoked haddock, crisp vegetables, mashed potato and ratatouille with baked beans. Delicious. I drank some of the Lidl Bordeaux opened last week and still potable. Jackie had a glass of the Cimarosa zinfandel.